


Winter Buds

by Augurey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, Love Confessions, One Shot, Rare Pairings, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29219877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augurey/pseuds/Augurey
Summary: After graduating from Hogwarts, Narcissa works in the Ministry of Magic. Just to pass the time until she finds a suitable husband, of course. But who would have thought that an intern, of all things, would thwart her plans?
Relationships: Narcissa Black Malfoy/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Winter Buds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liana_Medea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liana_Medea/gifts).
  * A translation of [Winterknospen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29219091) by [Augurey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augurey/pseuds/Augurey). 



> Hello all! Nice that you look in! This little Cissily-Onshot was once created in a Valentine's Gift Exchange on Fanfiktion.de and was a gift for Liana_Medea. The prompt was: bouquet of flowers, marzipan heart, snow. Have fun reading!

Winter frost and February gray - Diagon Alley resembled the solitude of a winter forest that morning. Snowflakes flew through the air and obscured the view as a curtain. The sidewalk, however, was as though swept clean. No children pressed their noses against the shop windows, no magicians studied the displays, and not a single witch emerged from the countless glass doors with a fully loaded basket. Only the spiked heels of Narcissa's own high heels clacked ceaselessly on the pavement. Furtively, almost shyly, she looked around, searching behind the ice-flower-painted panes and dimly veiled windows for eyes that followed her. Almost as if she feared being caught in the act, just like someone who did something outrageous. And maybe... maybe she did. 

Tighter, a little tighter still, Narcissa closed her already cramped fingers around the tissue paper and the stubborn green stems in her hand. A haze of hot breath wetted the delicate leaves of the white and yellow flowers, melting the flakes that settled on them like soft fluff. But Narcissa paid little attention as she walked down the alley, every muscle tense. Only when her gaze met not a soul anywhere, and her hasty steps, quick enough to almost cross the line into an indecent running, approached the public fireplace in the shadow of Gringotts, did she dare loosen her grip. Fluffed and unformed, the magnificent bouquet lay in her arms, too large, too exuberant for the well-measured room to move in her finely tailored jacket. While she laboriously fumbled the flea powder out of the far too small jacket pocket, Narcissa gave it a sidelong glance - critically examining, skeptically frowning. Lilies and narcissi. Narcissi and lilies. Wasn't it too conspicuous? Too obvious? Wouldn't she have been better off choosing a bouquet that expressed something harmless in floral language, like collegial respect? But then again, wasn't it exactly this clarity that she intended? 

Narcissa placed the bouquet in her other arm and sighed. She had put on her finest office dress and selected the most elegant silk scarf from her wardrobe. She had applied her finest perfume from Chatulle, a subtle, fresh scent, and had put her hair up elaborately. She had bought the most expensive flowers from the best store in Diagon Alley and had chosen the most beautiful Valentine's Day card, which magically changed its lettering. She had prepared everything accurately as befitted a woman of the world. And yet she didn't know if she was doing the right thing. To jump over her shadow, to really be herself, that was still difficult for her. If Lucius Malfoy, who courted her in the corridors of the Ministry as he did in the corridors of Hogwarts, had asked her for a date, she would have known exactly how to behave. Yet in even twenty-three years of the best education, no one had told her how a woman confessed her feelings to another woman.   
"You are much more than a Black," the sweet words swirled through her head again and Narcissa had to smile. Instantly her worries were forgotten, at least for the moment. Warmth flowed from her chest to her fingers. Her knees resembled butter and her feet touched clouds as she thought of the dear voice, the warm lips, the fiery hair and the sparkle in the bright green almond eyes.   
_Oh Lily, what are you doing to me. What else do you know about me that I don't?_

For a moment, Narcissa was lost in the world as the images overwhelmed her like a sip too much of elf-made wine. Only one thought, only one truth, stood clearly before her: she had fallen head over heels in love. In love with Lily Evans. Even if she still didn't understand how this miracle could have happened at all. 

When her supervisor, Terence Brocklehurst, had told her on the morning of November 27 that her department would have a seventh-grader from Hogwarts as a part-time intern starting in December and that she was to train her, Narcissa had first asked for her last name. How well she remembered frowning when Brocklehurst's answer didn't match up with any of the long-established families. How well she remembered the stiffness that had entered her limbs when, after a few more seemingly trivial words, she realized that the stranger was not even of magical descent. A mudblood! A mudblood in her office! Narcissa had wrinkled her nose in disgust, _just as she had been taught from an early age_. She had not dared to raise her voice against Brocklehurst's authority; not dared to go into open protest and intrigue against the new girl, for she was too well brought up for that. Yet she had greeted the girl with the utmost coolness. She had not even shaken hands with her, and had hardly exchanged a word during the first week. She had given only the most necessary instructions to the trainee and assigned the most boring tasks - always with a critical sideways glance, always lurking in anticipation of when the mudblood would reveal her inferiority, _just as she had been taught_. But all the wise warnings about the witches and wizards with Muggle parents that had accompanied Narcissa from childhood had been nothing but a lie. How much her expectations had been disappointed! How wrong she had been! Lily Evans had proved to be not only a clever and diligent colleague and pupil. She was also the sweetest, kindest person Narcissa had ever met. For every dismissive word, she received an uncertain smile and a cup of Earl Grey on her desk. For every tedious file sorting task she imposed on her intern, the girl invented a new archive spell that would also make her own work easier in the long run. How could a person be so sweet and kind and at the same time so smart and skilled? Basically, Lily Evans, she quickly realized, was better suited for her task than she was. Narcissa, she didn't really belong in the ministry. She was made to put together appropriate wardrobes, entertain guests, and tastefully furnish a house. She worked only to keep from being bored until she would find the right husband and become a mother. Lily, however, seemed completely in her own world in her own office, possessing the modesty of a servant. Frowns and dark clouds of brooding became Narcissa's constant companions during those first weeks. Soon the sad look from her green almond eyes, caused by her cold shoulder, made her shiver herself. Soon she could no longer bear to see her intern's talent wasted in unskilled labor. And at Christmas - at Christmas Narcissa sat appetite-less before the fine silver service and plum pudding that house elf hands had laboriously polished and prepared, wondering for the first time in her life if twenty-three years of the best education had been an aberration. She had shared the school desk with mudbloods. She had sat next to them. And yet she had never really looked any of them in the face. Maybe they weren't mudbloods at all. Maybe they were just muggle-born witches and wizards. 

Lost in thought, Narcissa threw the green powder into the fire. Chimneys rushed past her until the right one threw her back into the world. Her heart beat faster, beating up to her throat as she entered the atrium of the ministry like every morning. Her footsteps echoed on the marble. Again her fingers tangled in the tissue paper she unconsciously fiddled with. What she carried in her hands would reveal and perhaps destroy everything. Was her makeup still on? Wasn't it melting under beads of sweat? Had she put on enough perfume to mask her tension? 

January had changed everything. _She_ had changed everything; had started giving Lily Evans, whom she felt sorry for and was gradually growing fond of, bigger tasks. But no matter what Narcissa did, her intern's face remained somber and still in those days as if a heavy storm cloud hung over her, invisible to everyone else. How it had come to this, that on that gray afternoon between two cups of Early Grey she had asked Lily Evans what was going on and the girl had first cautiously, then as if a dam had broken, told her about her Christmas and the ever deepening rift with her sister, Narzissa no longer knew. But her words, every single one of them, had gone right under her skin and left an indelible mark. Silent and riveted, Narcissa had listened to her. What Lily Evans told - all her pain, her longing for peace - had been like a revelation to herself. It was as if this strange girl spoke directly from her soul. Words that she had kept locked deep inside, that she only secretly told her diary now and then, flowed again to her tongue, to her lips. And for the first time in a long time she spoke it, the name that should have been erased from her memory and was not: Andromeda Black - Andromeda Tonks. Never had Narcissa confided to anyone how much she still missed her sister, even though her aunt had burned her out of the tapestry of her family tree a good three years ago. She had never told anyone how much she struggled to be a good Black and just forget the cut branch and couldn't because she grew up with it and the wound just wouldn't gum up. No one in her family had ears for such words. No one an eye for such tears. And if they did, there were admonitions and disdainful looks instead of a tea and a handkerchief.   
Lily Evans, however, understood.   
"I knew there was more behind your cool mask. You love her very much. I wish Petunia would love me," she had said.   
And Narcissa realized that just now a girl who had just turned eighteen had seen through her more deeply than any person who had ever crossed her path before.   
And maybe... maybe it had been that very moment that she had fallen in love with Lily Evans. Even if she didn't want to admit it to herself at first. Even if she wondered why something in her rebelled when she explained to her intern that it would be faux pas for a witch to cancel a date within less than twenty-four hours of it, after Lily had told her one day, sighing, about a meeting with a boy named James Potter that she felt no desire for at all. Or why she got hot and dizzy and a stream of fire rushed through her veins when their fingers happened to touch over parchment, then when Narcissa corrected Lily's resumes, because Lily didn't know what wizards paid attention to on the executive floors, not knowing the conventions of the magical world.

The conventions! Narcissa breathed in and out nervously. The conventions forbade everything she was doing here right now. For a moment she stared at the closed office door in front of her. For a moment, nebulous visions of terror flickered through her mind of what her aunt might be doing with her name on the tapestry. But Narcissa quickly pushed these out of her mind. Something else worried her. She had long suspected that she also liked women. But she had silenced this side of herself for just as long. Now, for the first time in her life, she was about to show her colors, spurred on by all the sweet, loving words of her beloved. And she didn't know how this would all end. What if she made a fool of herself? What if this turned out to be one big blamagae? Two weeks only, and then Lily Evans would be back at Hogwarts every day. But even two weeks could be an ordeal if you lost face. And what if Lily was even disgusted by her confession? What if she just stormed out of her office! That she had her heart in shambles because she didn't reciprocate her feelings, Narcissa could live with that. But not with someone throwing the splinters in her face. For a second she pictured Lily's disparaging look, her wrinkled nose, and decided in an instant that it was balderdash. No, Lily would never react that way. She was far too kind and sweet for that, just sweet! Lily, it had been Lily who had melted her ice; who had made her, who usually waited for an impulse from others, buy the most beautiful Valentine's bouquet before going on duty. If Lily broke her heart, she would do it gently. Anyway, it was her gentleness and the sparkle of her eyes alone that had persuaded Narcissa to bite the bullet. In that green glitter she sometimes thought she saw a reflection of her own heartquake, but she was probably mistaken. 

Taking a deep breath and feeling less shaky than seconds before, but by no means reassured, Narzissa muttered the password and entered. It was cool and dim in her office. She kept the light dimmed a little at a time, just the way she liked it best. And in that light, no red hair shone, no footsteps sounded, and no soft clearing of throats. Narcissa's shoulders slumped and her heart slipped lower, too.The office was empty and she was alone. No sign of Lily Evans. With slow steps, hesitant and disappointed, Narcissa approached her desk. Should she have mistaken the day of the week and Lily be at Hogwarts today? But as soon as she reached the top of the desk, something caught her eye that changed everything. There it was, lying in the middle of her files: A heart. A heart made of marzipan, wrapped in red paper. Narcissa frowned and when she read the small note next to it, when she recognized the handwriting, her pulse began to race all at once. 

_For the best internship supervisor a student can find_  
_With love, your Lily_

Hastily, carelessly, Narcissa put the bouquet aside and nervously ran her fingers through her hair. Lily was here! She was there, surely in the next room, in the archives. And the winter storm had ruffled her, Narcissa's, hair. Her hairstyle was certainly ruined. Did at least her jacket still fit over her dress? And the eyeliner, didn't she have to redo it? Narcissa excitedly dug out William's Wonderful All-Purpose Magic Makeup Brush from her purse. But she never got around to using it. 

"Good morning," a soft voice sounded at her back, too shy, too formal. 

Narcissa whirled around, like a thief caught in the act, and stopped as if spellbound. There she was, on the threshold of the archive, within reach, the dream of her sleepless nights. Lily. Lily Evans. She hadn't put on makeup, hadn't dressed up, as Narcissa immediately recognized. Nothing did Lily wear but a simple crochet dress and her favorite woolen scarf. No makeup, no fine wardrobe, no scent other than that of her freshly showered skin. And yet she was beautiful, youthful like no other. Her loose hair fell in soft waves on soft shoulders, her eyes shimmered softly, and her full lips were adorned with a soft pinkish-red. Narcissa's heart did capers.   
"Lily!" she finally remarked, and far too late, not knowing how to finish the sentence, "This marzipan heart, is... is it yours?"  
To her amazement, Lily lowered her eyes and bit her lip.   
"Yes," she then replied, a hint of red on her cheeks. Taking a deep breath before looking up again; looking up and continuing in a firm voice, "Narcissa, I think I um, need to tell you something. I-"  
But whatever Lily had wanted to say, she fell silent as her gaze all at once grazed the bouquet of flowers on the desk. Farther and farther her pupils dilated and her lips stood wordlessly open in surprise. Narcissa eyed her in confusion, letting her gaze wander from her to the flowers and back again. Clueless, but only for a moment. For a blink later it dawned on her and she understood; understood and wanted to scream with happiness. But a Black daughter does not scream. A Black daughter waited until her crush made the first move and released her.   
"I...I too...fall for you," she therefore only murmured. And Lily looked over at her. Looked over at her, a fire in her eyes as if from a solar storm and her lips curved into a blissful smile. There was no more need for words. Nor was there time for them. For already Lily whirled around and spread her arms. Narcissa threw herself at her, soon lying against her shoulder, and as if by magic they found each other's faces. 

Outside, the blizzard raged. But Narzissa did not care. Sweet tasted the lips on hers, teasingly tickled her strands and her heartbeat melted all ice away. It was Valentine's Day and this was just the first, delicate bud of happiness: a bud of lilies and narcissi.


End file.
